


All Wrapped Up

by Crazythatcounts



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Gen, mutant alligators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazythatcounts/pseuds/Crazythatcounts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanna and Zombro investigate a mutant thingy in the sewers and things don't go as planned. Fluff, T for mild swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Wrapped Up

The mirror was fogged with steam from the hot running water. Through the steam, the green face and glowing eyes of 306's resident zombie could be discerned. He was bent over the sink, wetting a cloth to wipe off a long new suture across his green and decayed chest. Normally, he wouldn't have bothered, since there was neither blood to be spilt nor infections to worry about. Being dead, in that respect, was a bit of a godsend. But this time, he had to give not just the suture but his entire torso a good wash.

~*~

The boys had been investigating a case of a mutant in the sewers when this all went down. Hanna was excited – well, okay, when wasn't he excited, but this time, it was more than normal – because he thought he might just get to meet the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He even made a headband out of a old shirt he had torn up for bandages or rags or the like a long while ago for them to sign if they met them. What they had met wasn't even remotely turtle like in any extent. It looked a bit more like an alligator had mutated instead, all sharp teeth and snapping jaw and "holy _fuck_!" Hanna had whispered as it lifted itself up from the watery sewer floor, " _it's standing!_ "And it was more than just standing, it was lunging for Hanna.

The zombie wasn't quite sure exactly how it happened, but he remembered his feet moving, losing balance and then there was a pair of strong, sharp jaws clutching his middle and sinking into dead flesh. He was automatically spit out, and he remembered Hanna shouting, hand glowing with some sort of magic rune, though which the zombie didn't know, and then the mutant was shrinking, smaller and smaller until it was barely the size of a cricket.

"Inigo, are you alright?" Hanna watched as the zombie stood, luckily not soaked through to the skin, though the puncture holes were beginning to stain an odd shade of purple.

"I'm fine, are you alright?" The zombie gave Hanna a once over with his eyes and found him to be unscathed, which pleased him greatly, though his face did not show it. He realized quickly that he had jumped in front of Hanna, which was the only reason Hanna was even alive at this point, and for that, the zombie was glad, puncture wounds or no puncture wounds. There was an unmistakable smile in his eyes as he followed Hanna from the sewer. The mutant was gone and too small to be harmful, and Hanna was alright. He ignored the 'sorry you're going to have to get more stitches' and 'aren't you glad you're dead's coming from Hanna in favor of thinking a different thought: For once, they actually did a good job.

~*~

It wasn't until the zombie got home and removed his shirt that he realized something wasn't exactly right. For one, he was oozing from all his sutures on his torso – a thick, purple substance that Hanna attributed to the fact that the 'gator was mutant. He also thought it was really freaking cool that his zombie was oozing seemingly harmless purple goop. Much to the twenty-four year old's dismay, though, he was not allowed to keep a sample in the freezer just because the zombie knew someone would mistake it for something edible eventually, and he didn't want to find out the hard way if it was actually safe to ingest or not.

This left the zombie where he was when the story started – in the bathroom, sewn up, and wiping the ooze from his torso. He now had a semi-circle of 'x' shaped stitching, like buttons, running across his chest, and they oozed the worst of any of them. The zombie didn't mind, though. The hot water was nice – what he could feel of it, anyway – and there was something about getting clean that made him smile a little at his own reflection. He saw himself in the mirror – pale skin, bright eyes and a dark mop of hair; someone else's brother, husband, son, or father; someone else's best friend – and he wiped away the steam, leaving only the green and orange staring back at him, just as it should be. No matter what he left behind, he would rather ooze purple and be with Hanna than return to anything he'd been through before.

~*~

Meanwhile, Hanna was inspecting the bright orange shirt and the holes in it. Some of them had ripped, creating a line of torn fabric rather than just punctures. He had wiped the purple off the inside, unbuttoned the shirt, and was currently half in the shirt, fingering the holes. He could stitch skin, he knew as much, but he briefly wondered if sewing was any different. He didn't know if he could sew cloths. He might have to get Conrad to give it a try … and after thinking about it, Hanna decided not to ask Conrad, because if he did ask - assuming Conrad could sew – he would most likely only get shouting in return, and have it just got get done. He also considered what he would tell a seamstress if he went to one to have it fixed instead.

"Heh, lucky we have another shirt for you, right, Orsino?" Hanna called to the bathroom. He was only greeted with the sound of running water and chuckled, going back to the shirt. He found that his hand had started slipping down the sleeve when he turned away, and curious, he pulled the shirt up to his shoulder, slipping it on.

The "gnee" would surely have been expected had anyone been in the room. The shirt hung at least a good hand's length from Hanna's fingertips, leaving them covered. Hanna excitedly slipped the other sleeve on, drawing the overhanging cloth back just long enough to button the shirt that was resting over his own t-shirt. He let the tie that lingered around the collar stay as it was, not daring to tie it, since for one, he didn't know how, and two, he couldn't get it off even if he did. He didn't care that there was a massive tear in the fabric, the difference in size was just too cool.

He lifted his hands up, watching the swinging fabric, and began to mime a classic zombie, complete with disgusting noises and the occasional uncontrollable giggle. He then decided that classic zombies were unrealistic and moved on, pretending he was the mutant alligator, but with very floppy claws, instead. He ran around the room, swinging his sleeves like claws, snapping at the air and growling when he wasn't consumed in laughing at his own game. His shoulders would hunch up by his neck every so often with the force of his laughing fits, making the pretending stop for a moment while he controlled himself. Once, he even managed to trip on nothing and fall onto his mattress, before rolling onto his side and doubling over with laughter.

It was then that he noticed something – the smell of the shirt. Now, the shirt did not smell 'good' in the way people would think 'good'. Ten years of rot is never a 'good' smell, since it would make most people gag. To Hanna, though, it was a different kind of thing. The smell was familiar and comforting, calming even. The laughter subsided into half-hearted chuckles as he inhaled the familiar, now warm from his own heat, scent, sticking his sleeves up to his face as to take in as much as possible.

"Hanna, what are you doing?" The voice behind Hanna was curious and slightly put off that Hanna was wearing his cloths. Hanna rolled over and sat up, grinning broadly at his companion like he hadn't just been smelling said companion's shirt, who was wet and had a towel around his neck like he had emerged from the shower.

"Sorry, Jehovah, I got a bit carried away." Hanna laughed. "Look, though!" He held up his hand, sleeve swinging with the motion. "I look like a mutant with floppy claws! Like that alligator thing!" Hanna hopped up onto the mattress and raised his hands in a way that would have been threatening if it hadn't been Hanna, and if Hanna didn't have a ridiculous grin on his face. "That thing was going to eat us!"

"Hanna, can I have my shirt back, please?" Jehovah sighed, looking at Hanna with smiling eyes. The smile spread to his lips and somewhere in Hanna's brain, the zombie had yet one more tick mark on his smile chart.

"Aww, c'mon, you can't wear it anyway." Hanna half whined, half laughed, jumping off the bed and landing lightly, socked feet making a muffled thump when they contacted the hard wood. "It's got a huge rip in it, so I was going to see if I could sew it up or something later."

The zombie's resolve for his shirt vanished as the sight of Hanna so enjoying himself in his cloths, and without a word, he went to go locate his other, new, orange shirt. Hanna let out another sound of delight before jumping back on the bed and stomping around like Godzilla. He didn't mention he really just wanted to keep basking in that smell.

~*~

That night, the zombie left to go on one of his walks, leaving Hanna sleeping peacefully on the mattress. The ripped shirt hung on the door to the bathroom, draped feebly until morning, when Hanna could go try and explain to a seamstress why there was a huge rip and can she fix it. Hanna rolled over, made a muffled noise, rolled again and found that he was no longer on the mattress, but rather, the floor. He grabbed his glasses from the stool he used as a nightstand and yawned.

"Mm." Hanna murmured, at the sight of the missing zombie. Sleep clouded his thoughts, but for some reason his brain refused to turn back off now that it was awake. So Hanna stood, thinking of heading into the kitchen and getting something edible. On the way, though, he passed the shirt, and it made him stop. He glanced around him, and quietly grabbed the shirt, slipping it on as he did that afternoon, reveling in the comforting scent. It came near to his knees, covering his undershirt and almost covering his boxers, and it was somewhat warm from being under the heating vent all day.

With the shirt in tow, Hanna climbed back into bed and curled up around the shirt, stuffing the sleeves in his face and forgetting about the sheets entirely. With the smell in his nose and a smile on his face, Hanna slowly slipped back into the land of dreams where he was before, frolicking through deep green grass with a deep green friend. When the zombie came in twenty minutes later, he saw the sleeping man in his shirt, and went over to watch him for a moment, shaking his head. He quietly pulled the sheets up over the paranormal investigator and sat down, watching the young man snuggling with his shirt from his spot on the floor. It was slightly flattering that Hanna appreciated his shirt so much. He thought of how Hanna seemed to enjoy the shirt and sighed, looking up and out the window.

_Okay, Hanna, you win._ He thought, _You can wear it as much as you like._


End file.
